In accordance with the terms of the Clarke-Asimov treaty, the second-best science writer dedicates this book to the second-best science-fiction writer. [dedication to Isaac Asimov from Arthur C. Clarke in his book Report on Planet Three]
Interpretation
This quote highlights the mutual respect and acknowledgment between two prominent figures in science fiction and science writing.
Arthur C. Clarke's dedication to Isaac Asimov serves as a testament to the camaraderie and admiration that exists among great writers within the same genre. By referring to himself as the 'second-best' science writer and Asimov as the 'second-best' science fiction writer, Clarke humorously downplays their achievements while simultaneously honoring their contributions to literature and science. This quote reflects the humility and respect that often characterize the relationships between peers in intellectual fields.
In practice
In a literary discussion, one might cite this quote to illustrate how great writers often recognize and celebrate each other's talents.
Nowhere in space will we rest our eyes upon the familiar shapes of trees and plants, or any of the animals that share our world. Whatsoever life we meet will be as strange and alien as the nightmare creatures of the ocean abyss, or of the insect empire whose horrors are normally hidden from us by their microscopic scale.
As our own species is in the process of proving, one cannot have superior science and inferior morals. The combination is unstable and self-destroying.
It has yet to be proven that intelligence has any survival value.
The best measure of a man's honesty isn't his income tax return. It's the zero adjust on his bathroom scale.
It was the mark of a barbarian to destroy something one could not understand.
My favorite definition of an intellectual: 'Someone who has been educated beyond his/her intelligence'.
All modern American literature comes from one book by Mark Twain called Huckleberry Finn.
I remember going into a bookshop, and the only book I saw with a black child on the cover was 'A Thief in the Village' by James Berry, and I thought, 'Is this still the state of publishing?' Then I thought, 'Either I can whine about it or try to do something about it.'
A report of a most alarming nature reached me two days ago.
After I had my son I looked everywhere for a book that might serve as some kind of mirror. I bought so many silly books. Now I see what the problem was: I wanted a book about time-about mortality. I can't think of a writer who is at once so experimentally daring and so rigorously uncompromising as Sarah Manguso. Ongoingness is an incredibly elegant, wise book, and I loved it.
All books are either dreams or swords, you can cut, or you can drug, with words.
And I desperately needed books that would take me out of my environment and show me a world where being smart and brave and prepared was more important than being cute or cheerful or knowing the right thing to say. And that's what science fiction and fantasy gave me.
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